


Lodestar

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [263]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Not a Mary Verse, Sherlock Holmes's Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 07:02:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10270961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: lodestar: noun: ˈlōd-ˌstar: one that serves as an inspiration, model, or guidefrom Merriam-Webster.com"The literal, albeit archaic, meaning of "lodestar" is "a star that leads or guides; especially : the North Star." (The first half of the word derives from the Middle English word "lode," meaning "course.") Both the literal and the figurative sense ("an inspiration or guide") date back to the 14th century, the time of Geoffrey Chaucer. The literal sense fell out of use in the 17th century, and so, for a while, did the figurative sense - but it appeared again 170 years later, when Sir Walter Scott used it in his 1813 poem The Bridal of Triermain."





	

Long ago, Sherlock had understood John Watson was his lodestar, his guiding light. He rolled over to look at the man next to him that bright spring morning and studied him for a long moment. His silver hair shimmered in the growing light, and it took the detective everything he had not to reach out and touch it. Some mornings he was afraid that John wasn't real, just a figment of a mind too alone for far too long; on those days, John would wake, somehow sensing a 'disturbance in the force' as he called it, and kiss him lightly, reminding him that he was real, they were real.

This morning, though, no such rubbish entered into his thinking, and he rose quietly from bed, threw on his robe and made the first pot of coffee of the day, John was not a tea drinker from long before they had met, his time in the military had made him accustomed to strong coffee, the need for milk happened as a result of returning to a land of 'refrigeration' as John had once told him, but no sugar. Sherlock sighed and wondered how they managed to live together as he dumped three spoons of sugar into his and went to look out the large picture window that still took his breath away. They had left behind London long ago, for the peace and quiet of Sussex, John had his stories to edit, while Sherlock had his bees and experiments. He had fleeting moments, like now, when he would wonder if what they had was enough, if he was enough, for the man who once needed the adventures and thrill of the chase as much as Sherlock had needed the puzzles.

"Don't be an idiot, love." John's voice rumbled softly at his ear.

"Sorry, I meant to let you sleep."

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's still lean waist and took a deep breath. "I could smell the coffee and I missed you."

They stood together, Sherlock sipping his coffee as John held him strongly in his arms, watching the day gently come to life.

"Missed you too."


End file.
